


Nate Saves Sophie, Or Is It the Other Way Around--The Victorian Romance Job

by crayonbreakygal



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 13:16:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8669128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: Nate and Sophie find themselves locked in a room with no way out.  AU from the start.  Time period is 1880s in England.





	1. They're Locked In

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this story came from. I just wanted to write something where Nate and Sophie are trapped in a room together. And I wanted it to be a bit funny. So here it is. I did some research on the Victorian era and the 1880s, but the way they use language I am sure is not correct. Hey, it wouldn't be these characters if they didn't say things sort of the way they say it in the modern era. I have Nate cursing a lot too. I couldn't decide whether to rate this T or M, so I put M just to play it safe. There isn't much going on that's graphic in nature, just so you know. So any errors I've made in how people act and say things in this era are all mine! I also made up a title for Nate. It's not real at all. So have fun with it. I know I did.

Nate Saves Sophie, Or Is It the Other Way Around—The Victorian Romance Job

This is an AU with many characters from Leverage.  It probably takes place in the 1880s in England.

Chapter One—They’re Locked In

She heard the pounding on the table before she opened her eyes.  Her head hurt, her lungs felt heavy, like something was on top that was too much to bear.  As she opened her eyes, she noticed something strange.  She wasn’t in her room at the inn.

“Ok, now, put this here.”

She heard the man’s voice off in the distance, but hadn’t spotted him yet.

The heavy blankets were what was impeding her breathing.  She certainly didn’t want the man off in the distance hearing that she was awake.  Where was she?  The inn she had stopped in the night before had been reputable, even for a female traveling alone.  It wasn’t something she normally did, but she had to find her sister.  The note she’d left after fleeing had been ominous. 

Sophie to the rescue, on more than one occasion.  Her sister tended to get into more trouble than was sometimes worth dealing.  Not that Sophie herself didn’t do the same.  She just chose her times appropriately.  Her parents must have hated the both of them when they were alive.

Shifting as quietly as she could, she managed to turn over to survey the room.  Light shown in brightly, dust motes floating ever so softly around where the shaft of light beamed down.  The blankets that were on the bed were soft, luxurious, and so expensive.  It wasn’t something she’d been able to afford, that was sure.  She and her sister were comfortable, but never could afford what she was seeing by her survey.  The furnishings were ornate, room cluttered with knickknacks everywhere.  Papers, books, was that a skull?  Where had she landed?

The figure that had been talking to himself had his back turned to her. He sat hunched over a writing table, pen scribbling fiercely across the page. He’d pause, scratch something out, then continue on like he was competing in a race of the pen.  She could see his head bob as his hand worked down the paper on the desk.  The curls on his head danced about his moving head, making him look a little manic as she watched.  She could see a sign of glasses perched on his nose.  He was mumbling to himself, like he was reading what he’d just written.

“And then she, hmm, hmm.  Ok, now that’s better.”

Maybe she could slip away, him not notice that she was now awake.  She had no idea who this person was and what he wanted.  It was entirely inappropriate to say the least with her being in his chamber alone.  Who did he think he was?  The king or something?  Not that she had any idea even if a king would have a lone female in his chambers in his bed. If this was his bed.

Sliding as quietly as she could, she managed to place her feet on the cold ground. That’s when she realized that the only item of clothes she had on was her shift.  No gown, no corset, nothing else other than the clothes that normally were against her skin.  She needed to find some clothes and quickly.

The man was still hunched over the desk, pen working across the paper furiously. Now was her chance.  She’d even get out of there not clothed if she could.  Sophie finally spotted her gown, hung up against the wall, directly in front of the man with the pen.  He’d notice if she attempted to grab it and run. Would he care though?  She also spotted a dressing gown nearer the door.  Maybe that was a better option, until she could find someone to retrieve her gown.

“Ok, ok.  How about this?  Her skin felt like silk as his hand slid between her thighs. Maybe that would work.”

Sophie stopped her forward progress to the door.  What had he just said?  Her cheeks colored she was sure.  They were flaming hot now just by the tone of his voice and what he repeated.  His voice seemed gravely from not being used, but that wasn’t what bothered her.  It was the fact that he seemed to be writing something intimate, much more intimate than she wanted to hear.

As she tiptoed to the door, she gently dragged the dressing gown off the hook by the door.  It was much too big for her, probably belonged to the writer at the desk. It didn’t matter.  It would cover her until she figured a way out of this mess.

“How about his?  Ok.  His finger found her wet,” he started.

Sophie gasped by what he said.  What was he writing? And why?  Her gasp though brought his head up.  He’d finally heard her movements.  She frantically tried the door handle, only to find it locked.

“Oh, so sorry. You’re awake.  I was working.”

When he stepped into the light, it looked as if a halo was over his head. Once her eyes adjusted to him blocking the sun with his body, she could see his face a bit clearer.  The glasses were pushed up on his face. He looked at her now, head tilted to the side just a bit, like he was attempting to figure her out.  The small grin that broke out on his face made him look years younger than he must have been.  She’d seen the sprinkling of grey in his hair, but that really didn’t tell her how old her captor really was.  The shock of blue eyes that met hers made her catch her breath. Those eyes were the most beautiful she’d ever seen.

“What is going on?” she said slowly, backing against the door.

“Oh, I should probably explain.  My brother’s an ass, by the way.  Sorry for the language.  He’s always said that I don’t understand how to speak to a woman.”

Sophie clutched the edges of the dressing gown tight against her, not wanting him to realize that she was not fully clothed.

“He said there was a fire, and that he saved you.  I don’t really believe him, because he only half the time tells me the truth.  Then he decided that you should be put here, but I was asleep then working, so I didn’t realize until a few hours ago that he did. Not sure why he locked the door though.”

The man rambled a bit too much, making Sophie’s head hurt.  That’s when she realized that her head really did hurt.  Feeling with one hand, it came away with a bit of dried blood on it. Had she hit her head? Or had her assailant hit it intending to kidnap her?

“You’re hurt,” he cried, coming toward her.

“Stop. Right this instant. Just stop. Let me out of here.”

“I would if I could.”

“You would if you could?  Let me out.”

Sophie banged on the door now, hoping that there would be a decent person on the other side.  Nothing.  No noise to speak of outside.

The man came toward her, making her move out of his way.  He tried the door too, but it didn’t give.

“Dammit, Eliot.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah. Son of a bitch,” he mumbled.

The mouth of a sailor too, she surmised.

“Eliot, open this door right now,” he shouted.

No sound.

“This isn’t funny.”

Could he possibly be trapped too?  The room was richly appointed, like he or his brother had money.

“You must let me out.”

“I’m trying.”

His accent was different from hers, which meant he wasn’t native to England.  He pounded on the door for a few more minutes, then stopped, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Window,” Sophie pointed out.

“We’re at least five stories up.  Sheer drop from that window.”

The man opened it, looking down. He opened another door to the side now, one she hadn’t noticed while surveying the room.

“Is that a way out?”

“Bath.”

That reminded her she really did need to use the facilities.

“So this is your room?” she started, inching her way to the bath on the other side of the room.

“Yeah. I moved to this one after,” he stopped, his hands clenching at his sides.  He’d moved back over to his desk, leaning up against it.

“I like the light. It’s small, but I don’t need much.”

He looked down at the floor while he talked, like he didn’t want her to see the way his eyes teared up, looking lost as he did.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what kind of game my brother is playing. This isn’t…”

“Appropriate?  Ruinous?  Possibly life changing?” Sophie went on, almost to the point of getting hysterical.

“Maybe if I can get you out of here unnoticed, then not. I was, uh, a little bit under the weather last night and hadn’t noticed what he was up to.  All I remember was his words about a fire.”

“Did you sleep here? In the bed, I mean?”

“I must have.”

Oh damn, she thought. They slept in the same bed? She was doomed, entirely doomed.  His hand reached out to take the half empty liquor bottle to pour a bit into a glass that had been by his side. Was that the cause of his lack of memory?  He downed it in one gulp, closing his eyes as he did. That gave her the opportunity to run into the bathroom, slamming the door as she did.

“I’m sorry,” she heard through the door.

The room was very masculine and quite messy.  She managed to freshen up though. The giant tub in the middle of the room did entice her, her mind wandering as she imagined filling it with steaming water. There wasn’t time and it was most inappropriate to think this.  Peeking out the door, she found him where she left him, sitting at his desk, head in his hands. The only thing different was the bruise that was now forming on his brow. She’d heard a thump while she was in the bath, but hadn’t known what was going on.  She had thought he was moving around.

“Did you fall?”

“I wish.  At least there’s food now.”

He pointed to the tray laden with food at the door.

“What happened?”

“The butler did it. Or the stable boy.  Took a swing at me when I tried to rush past him.  That hurt.”

“So we’re prisoners in here?” Sophie asked.

The man grimaced as she said this.

“That’s going to swell.”

“Probably.”

Tying the sash on the gown as tight as she could, she walked over to the tray and picked it up. There was enough food for a day at least by the looks of it.  Various fruits, vegetables, things for breakfast, tea. It was almost too heavy for her to manage until he came over to help her. She could smell whatever he’d used to clean up in the bath.  The thought of watching him sink into that tub flitted through her mind.  She almost dropped the tray.

“Here. I got it.”

“American?” Sophie finally asked.

“I was born here, then moved when I was young.  I came back when my grandfather passed away.  My name is Nate, by the way.”

“Just Nate?”

“For now. Anyway, we’d better eat. Then we can find a way out of here.”

At least he was thinking the same thing she was.  She must get out of this room and find her sister.  She had no idea how she would recover her reputation, but there had to be a way.  Spending the night in a man’s room, no matter how innocent it seemed, would be the end of her.  It was scandalous as it was that she was still alone after so many years.  Damn William for leaving her alone. Damn Parker for not accepting the marriage proposal from the Earl. They’d be alright if she had.

Sophie picked at her food, hoping that she’d gain more knowledge on the man in front of her.  He was dressed casually, shirt open at the neck, braces, pants of good quality, but not expensive. No shoes.  His feet were large, she thought, as she looked down at them. She’d never seen a man’s feet before in the light. William was very particular on how much she saw of him, only revealing himself in the dark of night.  It was his way, she thought.  She’d never questioned it.  He was always buttoned up, tie, most of the time a jacket, even in her presence.  She could see the hairs on Nate’s chest, the ones on his arms because he had the shirt folded up his arms, like he had been working.  He probably had been working, writing at his desk.  She could see the ink stains from the pen on his fingertips.

“You know, I really am sorry. I have no idea what my brother is trying to pull.”

“He’s ruined my reputation.”

Nate chuckled at this a little, making her angry at him. It wasn’t a nice chuckle, like he saw how funny this was.  He was angry too.

“Not sure I can apologize enough.”

“Why?  Why would he do this?”

“He kept begging me to get out, go to parties.  This is all just so fucked.”

Sophie’s intake of breath told him that he’d said the wrong word yet again.

“And I keep offending you.”

He raked his hand through his unruly hair, making it messier than it already was.

“You swear like a sailor.”

“Which I was at one point.  A sailor, a merchant, I even fought in a war.”

“Oh, so you’re a merchant then?”

“Sort of.”

He got up to pace the room, which wasn’t much since it was small and the furnishings took up much of the space.  Looking down at the paper on his desk, Sophie read a few of the lines he had written. There were stacks and stacks of pages, like he was writing a book.

_She dropped to her knees, her hands tugging on his trousers as she did._

Sophie didn’t want to look at what he’d been writing, but she did.  Scandalous, but she was even more curious than before.

_His member sprang free, hot and hard against her hand as she stroked up and down._

She looked away as quickly as she could. She most certainly did not want him noticing her looking at his writings.  Besides, the room spun a little.

“Ok, so, maybe when they come to give us more food, we’ll both put up a fight. One of us can escape, probably you, and get help.  But wait. If this is Eliot, all the staff will be loyal to him.”

“Why would he do this?” she asked.

“I have no idea.”

He sat down on the edge of the large bed with a thump, like he knew he didn’t have any more ideas up his sleeve.

“Come up with anything?”

“I could pretend to be ill.  You could spring a trap on whoever comes to check on us.”

“Could work.  How do we get someone to open the door?”

“We could force it open?”

“Those doors are solid wood.”

“Oh, right.”

She watched as he fidgeted with his hands, twisting them together.  He rubbed his face then, feeling the growth of whiskers and frowning when he did. He seemed to be the type of man that would forget to eat or shave or anything that got in the way with whatever he’d be doing in the day.

“Do you spend most of your day in here?” she asked quietly.

“Here or in the gardens.  Too cold to be outside for any length of time now.”

The fire in the fireplace had died down, coals still hot.  She wondered if he was going to rebuild the thing or she had to perform the task. She was used to doing the menial tasks that made a household run.  Her father had seen to it that she could do many tasks, like accounting and performing science experiments.  Her mother had scoffed at his teaching his daughters more than just how to run a household.  He had indeed thought that either one of them could do whatever they’d put their mind to doing.  She’d have to get dressed if she dared attempt to rebuild the fire with the items she saw sitting beside the fireplace.  The dressing gown would ultimately become filthy if she tried.

“I should get dressed. If you don’t mind.”

“Mind?  Oh, of course.”

He waved to her, glancing up at the dress that hung limply from the hook beside his armoire. 

“Bath,” she pointed, knowing that it surely would not work if she were in the same room as he was while changing. 

Reaching up, he handed her the clothes on the hook.  His hands ran over the corset right before handing it off to her.  She could tell that his eyes darkened a bit while he did. She wondered what he was thinking. It was just an undergarment. Then she thought back to the passages that she read while he wasn’t looking.  Her cheeks flamed when she thought of what he’d written.  His fingers brushed hers as she took them out of his hands.  He flinched a little, but then smiled down at her in apology.

Sophie couldn’t tighten the corset much at all, but that didn’t seem to matter since there was no way either one was getting out of the room unaided.  She went through everything in her mind.  Her being trapped with a strange man.  The supposed fire at the inn where she stayed.  The door being locked for the both of them and the hit that Nate received when he tried to gain exit of the room.  Who and why ran through her brain?  Did his brother seek something from her?

Her hair was in disarray and did smell a bit on the burnt side.  So maybe the fire was legitimate.  She’d beg for a bath later, once she had figured out what was going on. As she reentered the room, she saw Nate cradling his hand. The fire was now roaring, so he did know how to set one.  He closed his eyes, the look of pain across his face.

“Are you alright?” Sophie asked.

“Just need to run some water over this burn.”

He’d burned himself with the coals? 

She heard the water running right after he entered the bathroom.  Poking her head in the opened door, she watched as he held the burn under the cold water.

“Hit my hand on one of the coals.”

“Here, let me take a look.”  He held it out so that she could examine it for him.  “I don’t think it will blister. The cold water should help immensely. Do you have any ointment?”

He pointed to a small cabinet to the side of the sink. Rummaging around, she found a tube of something that looked like ointment.  Drying off his arm carefully, she spread the ointment out as gently as she could.

“Thanks,” he quietly said.  “Your hair.  It does smell like smoke. Maybe Eliot wasn’t lying to me.”

He had stood so close to her, his face was nearly buried in her hair. She hadn’t realized how close she really was to him.

“Nate, do you realize what he’s done?  If he did lock us in here together, I can never recover.  You, possibly.  I am an unmarried woman on my own, which is frowned upon as it is.  I don’t know your situation.”

“My wife.  I mean, she died some time ago. Carriage accident.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

His arm trembled a little. She was still holding it in hers.  His pulse beat strong and fast with her fingers directly on top of it.  She hadn’t meant to hold his arm right there, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

“As I said, it was a long time ago.”

“You’ve been cooped up here, for how long?  With your writing?”

“A long time. And not always here.  Eliot seems to think I need a change of scenery every once in a while.  He once kidnapped me and sent me to some estate out in the country.  Tried to marry me off to some Baroness who was also widowed.  That didn’t work out at all.”

“So he’s tried this before?”

“Sort of.”

Sophie wrenched her hand away, becoming angry at the man’s sibling.  What kind of game was he playing? With her life? She’d lose everything she’d taken the time and energy to build.

“So he decided that you needed a plaything and deposited me here for you?”

“I don’t know what he’s doing.  Bastard.”

She thought of telling him about his use of salty language but thought better of it.  It was indeed part of his personality, just as it was for him to fidget.  What an odd man she’d been tied to, literally.

“Would you like to bathe?  I mean, you do smell like smoke and I thought that maybe you wanted to clean up and so I have this invention I thought up to draw the water through the pipes. It gets hot when you need it although I haven’t figured out how to get more than one tubful at a time. I’m working on that.”

Sophie’s head spun at how quickly Nate spoke, like he was embarrassed to ask her whether she wanted to bathe, in his tub, using his invention. She figured he’d never asked another woman if she wanted to bathe. He must have been married a long time ago.

“Yes, that would be lovely. Only I don’t have any more articles of clothing. But that would help.”

Her gown wasn’t the most practical for her to wear since the one she had on right at that moment was meant for travel. It was heavier than she usually wore since it had been bitterly cold outside.  They really did need to figure out how to get out of the room and fast.

“If Eliot doesn’t let you out soon, we’ll have to think of more drastic measures.”

“Such as?”

“Breaking out the door or planning an escape from the window.  Although I have no idea how to do that.  Any ideas?”  He was asking her?  “I’ll think of a plan.”

She stared at him, looking at him to get the hint to leave so that she could bathe in peace. He most certainly was not going to join her.

“Oh, yeah. I probably should just go into the other room. The bedroom.  I mean, my room, which I’m sharing with you until my asshole brother gets the hint.”

He put his hand over his mouth at that swear word, making her giggle just a bit. He most definitely was American.

“Uh, what’s your name, by the way?”

“Sophie. Sophie Devereaux.  Pleased to meet you.”

He looked at her strangely once she’d formally introduced herself.  Like he knew the name but did not want to seem like he did.

“Um, yeah. Towels in the cabinet.  I’ll just leave you.  Yell if you need.  No, don’t yell if you need anything.  Here, let me turn the water on and show you how it works.”

She noticed the blush that had formed on his neck as he bent over to show her the operation of the tub.  It was a bit strange to actually be taking a hot bath without boiling the water first.  Once he was gone and had pulled the door to, she rummaged around and found something that smelled orangey and dumped it into the water.  She hoped that this wasn’t something special that he was saving.  As she sank into the heat, she dunked her head to get the smell out.  Once she figured out how to get out of this predicament, she’d have to start the process of selling her interests in the company that she owned.  All that she had to accomplish made her tear up.  She’d worked so hard to make a living for herself and her sister. Now it was all ruined by someone playing some kind of practical joke. 


	2. What Was Nate Going to Do?

Chapter Two—What Was Nate Going to Do?

What in hell was he going to do? He’d kill Eliot once they were let out.  Did he think that Nate would just marry the woman? The scandal that this would create would ruin him also, not just her.  Of course, he could still earn a living with his writing since no one save his solicitor knew who he was.  His books were widely known, as were his newspaper articles.  No one knew who wrote them.  He went by so many different names, he sometimes couldn’t keep them straight.   He’d written everything under the sun, from gardening to fiction.  His most recent work though was a bit more on the racy side.  His editor at the publishing company had told him there was a market for it now that morals had loosened in the last ten years.  He’d make money on it. That’s all he cared about.  It took loads to maintain both the house in London and the estate out in the country.  Eliot did his best to contribute, but Nate was the older of the two brothers. It was his responsibility to make the money.  Farming was not lucrative in the least.  He collected rents.  That barely covered the staff at the estate.  His writing was his bread and butter.

Why would Eliot trap him in his room with the woman on the other side of the bathroom door?  Did he think Nate was lonely? Sure, Nate did not go out at all now. He’d tried since Margaret had been killed, but nothing worked.  He couldn’t stand most of the women who talked to him and indeed they had tried to entice him, wanting him to take them to bed.  It had only happened once or twice, him needing some kind of release.  They’d gossiped unfortunately and had ruined any chances he had of attracting someone to marry. So he’d come back to London from America.  His grandfather was ecstatic, but had died not two weeks after his arrival. Nate was not ecstatic to be back in London because of his father.  He didn’t want to run a household. He wanted to write.

Eliot often pulled him into card games, helped him out on occasion.  But the man had his own issues and women to deal.  His younger brother was somewhat of a ladies man, seen on many a girl’s arm when he saw fit.  Nate had no use of that anymore.  He dreamed of women, wrote about them, but decided that it was more trouble than it was worth.  Eliot had even given him a prostitute as a birthday gift a few years ago.  The woman had done her job, but Nate sent her away quickly after it was over.  His brother and his crazy ideas! Now he’d gone and done this?  The woman could get them charged with kidnapping or worse.  Her reputation was ruined. He could think of no way to get her out of the house and back to her life without someone finding out.

He could see why Eliot had been attracted to her. Sophie Devereaux was stunning.  In every way. She was intelligent, beautiful, with deep brown eyes and, Nate didn’t want to think about her body and what it could do.  He closed his eyes, attempting to will away his reaction to having her close.  Dammit, Eliot. 

Coming out of the bathroom, he noticed a pile of clothes by the door. They looked to be ladies clothes neatly folded.  More food also. While they were in the bathroom together, someone had slipped in to resupply them.  He banged on the door a few times, just to get rid of his anger before Sophie reappeared again.

Nate didn’t want to let on that he knew the name Devereaux.  He knew exactly who she was.  Her company, or the name that her late husband had set up the company with, had published many of his books.  He truly did not know she was still involved.  She must be.  Her late husband William had left her millions to manage.  He’d heard through the grapevine that she was the one who managed the publishing house.  It was unheard of for a woman to be working.  She must not have had the choice since she did have a much younger sibling to look after. 

The rumors were that he had committed suicide because of his wife, that she was a shrew, that she wanted him to die so that she could take over his millions for herself.  These were rumors, which Nate never took to heart.  Hell, he’d had rumors swirling around him for years, that he was heartbroken from his wife’s accident, that he couldn’t stand being out in public, that he bedded every woman who was single or even married that he could get his hands on. The first two were somewhat true, the last not at all.

There was no way out of this mess that Eliot had possibly created.  What would he do?  Sophie could get desperate, but so could he.  Sure, he could find another publisher for his books, hide out on the estate.  But she could never find another life to lead.  He’d kill his brother the first chance he got.

Sophie must have finished her bath because she soon came out of the bathroom dressed in his robe again.  Her hair was wet from washing. He must have some kind of brush around for her to borrow. He knew how women became without having their things, like brushes and whatnot.

Rummaging around in his desk, he found the small brush he’d been looking for.  He rarely used it to tame his unruly hair, but it did work for him. So why not for her?  Thrusting it out to her, he stood silently as she looked at him strangely.

“Nate?  Oh, a brush.  I’m sorry.  Slow to realize what you were offering.”

She smelled of citrus, which meant she’d used one of his toiletries in the bath.  He hadn’t used it often, usually when he felt melancholy for home, in America.  He missed Boston almost every single day. London was fine, but Boston would always be his home.

“Clothes.”

He handed her the bundle, not even looking what had been given to them.  Nate hoped that all she needed was in there. She smiled his way, taking the bundle and closing the door to the room.

Even right from the bath, he could see that she was beautiful. He most certainly didn’t feel that he was in her league.  He’d seen how Eliot would act with women. They’d fawn all over him, look into his blue eyes like they could see to his soul.  Nate never did get what that meant, but probably had used it in several of his novels.  Eliot was his inspiration in a few of them, but he’d never tell anyone that.  His brother’s head would swell too much from the praise.  Now all he felt for him was anger and deceit.

Nate sat back down at his writing desk and tried to continue on with his story.  It made him blush on occasion writing about the intimate lives of these people.  He only had his memory, a long distant memory of Maggie to recall what could happen in the bedroom.  He’d read through a few stories that his editor had sent him, saying to Nate that he could write this kind of fiction.  After much research, he sat down to work on his novel, wanting it to be a love story.  Now all he could think about was the fact that all the two main characters did was have sex.  He needed to change that, invoke some romance and mystery into the story, and make it more believable.  His research into matters that were intimate had fallen short.

“Excuse me?”

Sophie had finished her bathing. Her hair was simply braided down her back.  Her faded gown was a bit too small, but worked to keep her clothed. 

He stuttered as he looked at her breasts. It had been too long, much too long since he’d been intimate with a woman. The last time it had happened, the woman had finished with him in record time and he sent her on her way as fast as he could.  Not wanting to embarrass himself, Nate sat still at his desk so Sophie couldn’t see that she excited him.

She was still wary of him as she sat down in the chair by the fireplace.  Gingerly, she picked up a piece of bacon on the tray.  Every movement she made, she watched him to see if he would react.  Was she really frightened of him?  She must be.  Here he was, trapped in a room with her. She didn’t really know him at all.  She’d never met him, even at a party. Since Nate never attended these things anymore, he never would have seen her.

“Nate? I mean, Mr….”

“Ford. It’s Nate Ford. Sorry I didn’t tell you my whole name.”

He was lying.  He really didn’t want her to know his true name, that Ford was the name he had adopted when he worked in the States. His English background wasn’t exactly good for his prospects in America, so he’d changed it as soon as he was able.  Spencer was his given name, but she didn’t need to know that.  And she didn’t need to know about his title and his lands.  He really didn’t need her throwing herself at him just because of his title.  If she was who she said she was, then she had enough money to last a lifetime. 

“I see that you write.”

“Oh, yes. Have to pay the bills.”

“Indeed.  I know a bit about writing.”

“Oh?”

Maybe he’d find the real reason Eliot had locked the door.

“My late husband was a publisher.”

“You were married?”

Nate chose to draw the conversation away from his writing to her instead.  He knew he needed more information on her. This might be a way to get it.

“Yes,” Sophie said, voice cracking.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she whispered back.

The reaction on her face could mean one of two things in Nate’s mind. She hated the bastard and wanted him gone.  Or that she loved him with all her might and missed him every day.  It was hard to tell at the moment. She’d only let him see the momentary flash of pain.

“How long?”

“Excuse me.”

“How long has it been?”

“Seven years.”

It had been almost that long since Maggie had died.  The ache had lessened over the years. He did miss her, even though she had died while traveling to her lover. He knew she was unfaithful, but didn’t want to face the fact that he was probably the source of her unhappiness.  She never liked England and hadn’t wanted to travel that far away from home.  Was it her way of getting back at him for moving?  Or did she really hate him that much after their son had died? He would never know.

“Listen, whatever Eliot thought he was doing, whatever his motivation, I am sorry.  I will do everything in my power to see that you are returned to your home unhurt. You can trust me.”

Sophie shook her head yes at what he said, but he could tell that she didn’t exactly believe him.  What was strange though was the fact that maybe Eliot had told a bit of truth?  Her hair did smell burned and smoky.  She did have a knock to the head, which he should examine to make sure it didn’t need suturing.  She hadn’t complained about it, but by the look in her eyes, she must still be frightened of the situation and of him.

“You have not done anything to warrant that trust, Mr. Ford.  Locking me in here with you.”

Nate could see the tears forming in her eyes.  She attempted to blink them away, to show that she was not upset.

“You should let me look.”

“Look?” she questioned.

“Your head.  It looked like you might have taken a nasty blow to the head.”

“Maybe,” she replied hesitantly.

“I just want to make sure it doesn’t need sutures.”

“You know how to do things like that?”

“I can manage.”

So as to not frighten her, Nate slowly walked over to the chair. She shifted so that he could see the back. Parting it, he probed until he found a lump.  Searching, he found a small cut, probably why she had a bit of blood on her hands before.  It looked to be washed clean from her bath.  The scent of orange and something else teased his mind, making him think of how sweet the fruit was.  Patting her hair down, he stepped away to make sure she knew he was not going to put her in any kind of danger.

“Looks like just a cut.  Lump too.  You’ll have to be careful.”

“I will,” she replied, looking like she was talking about more than one thing.

“Tell me the last thing you remember, about yesterday.”

“I remember going into the inn. I was quite tired from traveling.  I was shown to my room.  Wait a second.  My bags.  They were going to bring my bags up to my room.  I don’t remember that happening.  Then I woke up here.”

“Do you remember what the room looked like?  What you did right before you went up?”

“Oh, I ate a small meal right before.  I’d traveled quite a distance you see. There was a note, from my sister.”

Nate turned his head, thinking about what could have happened to Sophie at that inn. And how she could have ended up in his room, trapped with him behind a locked door.

“Dammit, Eliot,” Nate sighed.

“What have you figured out?”

Sophie sat in the chair, hands twisting in her dress, a look of distress on her face.  What if he told her what he really thought happened? That Eliot probably saved her life and possibly her virtue to have her land in his lap?  Eliot never did anything half way.  She must have been in danger.

“This might not be what happened. I can just guess.  Was there anyone else with you? A servant, a traveling companion?”

“Just my driver. I wonder what happened to him.  I never saw him come into the inn.”

“Can you describe him to me?  How long have you employed him?”

“Jeffrey? I’ve known him forever.  He was employed by my father.  Much older, but still quite spry.  I’d trust him with my life, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Older servant, escorting a widow.  Sophie definitely would never act like she was rich and powerful.  The fact that Eliot had to intervene in something probably meant that she had either been followed or had been put into danger by criminals in the area.

“Your dress.  If you don’t mind, I need to examine it.”

“My dress?” she asked in distress.

“It might be nothing.  Just, please. Humor me.”

Sophie gathered it from the bathroom where she’d left it hanging.  Now that she was clean, Nate could smell the hint of smoke on it too.  Running his hands up and down, he noticed a tear at the bottom and the hint of blood on the hem.  It could have come from her head injury or someone else entirely.  The skirt was very wrinkled, like it had been bunched up in someone’s hands.  Sophie could have caused it, but maybe not.  Whoever pulled her out of the smoke might have caused it also.  Or someone who attacked her might have caused the skirt to be in this state.

“A few more questions.  While you were bathing, did you notice any other injuries, bruising?”

He watched as her eyes closed, like she was thinking about what she saw as she bathed.  Nate really didn’t want to think about her bathing either because his body stirred just a bit at that acknowledgment. 

“There was a bruise on my upper arm. Here, I’ll show you.”

Sophie pulled up the sleeve of her cotton gown to show him the bruise.  If he wasn’t mistaken, it looked to be in the shape of a handprint or fingerprints.  Someone had grabbed her roughly.

“Anything else? Anything on your legs?”

“I wasn’t looking. I just happened to notice that one.  It’s fairly obvious.”

“I need you to strip.”

“Excuse me?” she gasped.

“I mean, I mean go into the bathroom,” Nate stuttered out.

“Without you, I assume,” Sophie smiled a little his way.

She was joking just a little with him, realizing by his stammering and blush that she’d known he misspoke. 

“Any bruising, cuts, scraps.  Look everywhere. There’s a hand mirror in there somewhere. Wait, it’s in here.”

Nate snapped his fingers, knowing where he’d last seen the mirror.  Pulling a drawer open, he yanked it out and handed to her.  Their fingers met briefly as he did. 

“Nate, what are you thinking?  I have to know.”

He really did not want to tell her, but he had to make sure she understood.

“When was the last time?  Let me start again.  How am I going to say this?”

He could see Sophie’s eyebrows shoot up at his line of questioning.  Did she need him to spell it out or would she save him the trouble?

“Oh.  Seven years,” she hesitantly told him, cheeks flushed now while giving him the answer.

“Just, um, yeah.”

He made a shooing motion with his hands for her to go into the bathroom. He needed to figure out how to tell her what Eliot had concluded. Maybe he’d saved her from some ruffian. That had to be the only explanation.  If he had thought she was violated in some way, was this his way of saving her? Giving Sophie to his brother?

Nate could hear Sophie moving around in the bathroom.  Once he thought he heard a quiet sob, but he hoped he was mistaken.  Just by the looks that Sophie was giving him, she was made of much sterner stuff than he had thought.  She was a woman of the world, had made her own way as best she could.  And for this to happen to her? It made his blood boil.  He hoped that by the time Eliot found whoever had done this to her, he would administer justice. Because if he hadn’t by the time that door opened, Nate would find the man himself. It wouldn’t be pleasant.

It seemed to take forever before the door opened to the bathroom.  Sophie didn’t seem too upset, so possibly nothing happened to her.  He could tell by the look in her eyes though she knew exactly why she’d been instructed to examine her own body.

“You know why I asked you, don’t you?”

“I do,” Sophie answered, voice strong.

Her hands were clenched at her sides though, like she wanted to throw a punch his way, probably because he was a male, not because she wanted to cause him harm.

“There are several bruises on my legs. Most are superficial in nature although one on the outside of my thigh is tender. If you’re asking me if I was violated, I do not think so.”

Nate sighed in relief at her pronouncement.  He’d never wish that on anyone, even a stranger.  Her life was in turmoil right now. Adding that to everything else would have made it even more difficult for her to move on.

He was still holding her traveling gown in his hands, not letting it go while she looked herself over.  As he ran his hands over the wool, he decided by the way she was taking all this in stride, that he had to tell her his theory of Eliot’s actions.  His brother, although somewhat of a ladies’ man, had attempted to save her from being ruined. 

“I’m sorry.  I am truly sorry, Sophie.  I will get to the bottom of this.  I don’t think that Eliot is to blame for some of this.  He messed up by bringing you here though.  I am going to have to punch him for that.”

Sophie laughed a little at Nate’s judgment of his brother.  Throwing her hands up, she walked around the room, pacing back and forth until he stopped her with a hand.

“Most women would have fainted if I asked them to do what you just did.”

“I’m not most women.”

“I’ve figured that out.”

“You have a theory?”

“I do.”

Sophie settled herself down into the chair once again to listen to what he had to say.

“I think that you were drugged, possibly through what you ate or drank.  Your man, your servant was either overpowered or possibly injured or killed.”

Sophie tensed at this.  She probably already knew something had happened to him.

“Your memory gone is probably a byproduct of whatever they drugged you with.  I suspect that your assailant either wanted to hurt you physically or cause a scandal where you couldn’t recover.  Whether this was planned ahead of time or not, I won’t know until I get out of here and talk to Eliot.  We will figure it out though.  I can guarantee you that.  I know that Eliot’s actions seem rash. He must have had his reasons though.  If indeed you had been compromised.”

“Compromised? That’s what you calling possibly being raped?”

He could see the color on her cheeks.  She was pissed beyond belief. 

“Even the hint of scandal would have ruined your reputation and that of anyone around you.”

“My sister,” Sophie realized.

Nate slid to the floor to sit directly across from Sophie, back to the foot of the bed.  Looming over her was not what she needed at that moment. 

“Not just your reputation.  Your publishing house would have been ruined also.  Every single thing you touched would be gone.”

“So Eliot decides to let you do that for him?”

“If I know him, and I do, he already has a plan in place.  I think I know where he’s going with this. You’re not going to like it though.”

“Not going to like it? I’m sitting in a strange man’s bedroom. What is there not to like?”

It could have been amusing if she wasn’t so serious, Nate thought.  The fact that Eliot had taken this all in and had done this particular thing was just downright idiotic, but a bit chivalrous too. 

“He’s probably already spoken with the judge and possibly a priest.”

“Why would he speak with a judge? Or even a priest?”

He was surprised that this was not the line of thought she had.  He had gone right for it once he discovered that she had been set up at that inn.

“Oh, bloody hell.  I cannot, will not marry you. Do you understand?”

Didn’t take long, he thought. 

“I don’t think you have any other choice at the moment. We’ll deal with that possibility later.”

Married?  Nate hadn’t even thought about touching another woman much less get married to one.  Although Sophie was very easy on the eyes, he was sure she’d give him a run for his money and cause all sorts of trouble for him.

Sophie got up from the chair to stand over him. “Your brother,” she started, pointing to him.  “You have to fix this.  I didn’t ask for this.”

Nate’s leg had started hurting, the one where he’d been shot all those years ago. It must be going to rain, he surmised. It only hurt when it rained.  Pulling himself up by the end of the bed, he wanted to reassure Sophie that she was safe while she resided at his estate. Only when he stood up too fast, his leg somehow collapsed, making him fall into her arms, pushing her back into the chair, him on top of her. 

It took Nate a few moments to realize what he’d done.  She was motionless as his body crushed hers. The only sound she had made was the breath leaving her as they both fell.  His leg twinged and pain shot up into his thigh as he tried to move it.  He’d realized he was sitting much too long at his writing table, but hadn’t done anything about it.  Now he was paying the price.  She was going to kill him, for everything.


	3. Sophie Was Going To Kill Him

Chapter Three—Sophie Was Going To Kill Him

She was going to kill him for everything.  Here he was, directly on top of her, weight bearing her down into the chair. He hadn’t hurt her, just taken the breath out of her as they tumbled forward.  She could see the pain in his eyes.  It must be his leg, she had figured out, because of how he clutched it.  She wanted to help, to figure out a way to get out from underneath him.  As she attempted to move though, her own leg twisted underneath. He would have to move out of her way first.

“Wait, just let me move my leg this way and you can roll out from underneath me.”

She could feel the muscles of his leg, his arms as he tried to raise himself up and off of her. His smell was not all that unpleasant. At least he bathed, although it did look like he needed to shave.  Sophie could even feel how fast his heart beat by just moving her hand over his wrist. He was oh so warm to the touch. 

Men had touched her. She’d danced with many of them over the years.  They often helped her out, but with just a look, their touches did not linger.  Sophie hadn’t truly been touched by a man since William and that had been seven years prior.  And that last touch had been one of anger. It wasn’t something she wanted to remember.

Nate’s breath was hot on her neck as he shifted his collapsed leg so that she could finally move. As he did move, his hand accidentally brushed up against her stomach and the underside of her breast.  She watched as he swallowed hard. Why was it that she was wishing he’d do that again?  It wasn’t like William had ever touched her with love.  He’d done his duty, had tried to help her produce an heir to his fortune. It had never happened.  He’d gone off and gotten some other girl pregnant, throwing it in her face that night before he died.  As she struggled against him, he’d fallen, hitting his head.  She thought he was fine. The next day, he apparently passed out at work to never awaken again.  Two weeks later, he was dead, along with the child. His girlfriend lost the child she was carrying.

She’d truly thought she’d found her soulmate in William.  Once she was married though, his drinking and carousing was apparent to everyone.  He was a mean drunk, often striking her when she made him angry.  Even taking another bedroom to avoid him hadn’t mattered to him.  He was cruel to her often, even when he had more than one girlfriend.  She most certainly did not miss him and his cruelty.  She just wondered if this was the way every man was when married.

The one time, the one exact time she’d bedded someone else, made her realize that it was William.  She’d never thought to stray, but he had laid the opportunity out before her.  Her guilt though had made her never stray again. That was the only time a man’s touch had ignited her.

“Sophie, you’re gonna have to help me out here.  My leg. The muscle is spasming.  Your skirt is trapped. See if you can work it out from underneath.”

Sophie worked her hand beside his thigh. She thought she was making progress so as to not hurt him.  Only he groaned out, mouth too close to her ear as he did.

“Not my leg,” he ground out as she jerked her hand to the side.

He was most definitely heavier than she had thought.  The fact that he couldn’t move much and she couldn’t get any leverage to pull herself out was perplexing. 

“What if I push you back? Would that help?”

“Possibly.”

Sophie finally managed to work her leg to a position to use it to push him off of her. She just hoped he didn’t land in a heap on the floor and hurt himself.

“We go on three,” she said to him.

He turned his head to look directly in her eyes. In another world, another time, she could get lost in those blue depths. Damn, why did he have to have such stunning eyes? 

“One, two, three.”

As she pushed him up, she realized there was no way she’d get herself out from underneath him by just pushing. She didn’t have the arm strength to do both.  As he started to fall backwards, she caught him in her much smaller hands, hoping that he’d not hit the floor too hard.  Only her hand and skirt tangled somehow with his body, bringing her over with him. She was now sprawled directly on top of him, breasts in his face. At least she was out from underneath him.  His breath sent shivers down her spine as she untangled her skirts from his legs.

“Oh god, Sophie, careful.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he panted out. “Not yet.”

“Let me look at that leg.”

“It’s just going to rain. Not sure why it seized up.”

She really hadn’t meant to reach down as her skirts finally became untangled.  Falling back on top of him was not her intention.  She knew the parts of a man’s anatomy from being married.

“Sophie,” he growled.

Immediately pulling her hand away, she pushed herself to the side and sat down. Her eyes began to widen as she noticed what she had caused. William had always told her that she made him wither at the sight of her.  That obviously hadn’t happened with Nate.  What she had touched was hard and hot. Now she wished she hadn’t read what he was writing. Her memory had gone there, to the one time where someone had actually wanted her in bed.

“I am so sorry, Nate.”

“Not your fault,” he gritted out between his teeth.

“You, um, maybe I should let you tend to that leg.”

“Yes.”

Yanking on her skirt, she pulled herself up by the bedpost, looking down at him to make sure she didn’t trip. Images of him naked popped into her head. This would not do at all. 

“Now that you’re done staring.”

Sophie hadn’t realized she was still staring at him. Turning abruptly, she held on so that she didn’t sway. Her breath was coming out like she might hyperventilate.  Calming herself would be a trick because the rest of her was inflamed.  She didn’t know this man. Why was he doing this to her? She was the master of emotions, never showing anything to any man in this world.  It’s how she survived so long without one. Now all she could do was pant at the mere sight of him.

“I was not staring.”

“Were too.”

Now he wanted to fight with her?

“I was merely concerned.”

“Copping a feel,” he murmured under his breath, but she heard every word.

“I was not copping a feel, as you so put it.”

He growled back at her.

“Wanna bet?”

“It is not my fault that you cannot keep your more amorous feelings at bay.”

“Amorous feelings? What the hell? You know, if you’re touching me down there.”

“Enough.”

“Besides, it won’t matter once we get out of here anyway. We’ll be married.”

Married? Was he serious? She most certainly would not marry him, even if he was the last man on earth.

“Why do you think Eliot locked us in here? To save you.  If you were compromised in any way, you’d never survive it.  By marrying you to me, he’s saved you.”

“You bastard. I will not submit to you.”

“Who said anything about submitting?”

That’s what she had to do with William. Wasn’t that the way with every marriage?  It wasn’t like she had her own parents’ marriage to look upon. They’d died when she was in her teens. All she had now was her sister. What would Parker think of all this?  Where would her prospects of having a home go if there was a scandal?

“It’s what a woman has to do.  I won’t do it.”

“Where’d you get that from?  Oh.”

Sophie finally turned to see him massaging his leg so he could move it again.

“Listen.  We’ll figure a way out of this.  No one’s submitting.  Or anything like that.”

He looked to be sincere, but she didn’t know him at all.

“Are you going to be able to get off the ground?”

Nate laughed a little in disgust.

“I have no idea.”

Gathering some pillows and a blanket, Sophie handed them to Nate so he could get comfortable.  He twisted and pulled, but the leg was being stubborn. She watched as he tried to lift it, but it didn’t work.  Sophie sat down in the chair in front of him, if just to study him. She had no idea who he really was, had never heard of him, and did not know of his family.  What was she to do?

“You write?” she started the conversation.

“Pays the bills.”

“Why? I mean, aren’t there other ways to pay the bills as you say?  Your estate?”

“Was almost bankrupt when I came back from America.  My father drove it into the ground with his gambling debts.”

William was somewhat of a gambler, but at least he didn’t go that far.  The business was intact and making money.

“What kinds of things do you write?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Listen, it’s what I do.  I can tell you what bulbs to plant in the spring.  I can tell you what herbs to use in cooking. Or when is the best time to travel to India.”

“So you know many things then?”

By what she’d spotted on his desk, maybe he knew more than she was willing to let on.

“You pick up things here and there.”

“So you’re well-traveled?”

“I listen.”

“Ok, so if you listen, what do you hear about me?”

He rolled his eyes at her.  “Not sure this is a good idea.”

“Go on.  If you think you know so much.”

Leaning his head back against the bed, he closed his eyes, like he was thinking of what to say. Did he really know who she was?  She wished she had that much information running around in her brain.  It would make her much safer to know things about people.

“You married young to a man your relatives thought was a good match. Unfortunately it was not.  William. He was a tyrant.  He hurt you.  That I can tell.  When he died, there was no love lost. You’ve since taken the reins of the company and made something of it.  You’re really careful with your money, but sweetheart, I know that you are worth five times what I’m worth.  You have a good business sense, but can’t get past the fact that in your world a woman has almost zero say so.  Am I close?”

He was right, she thought.  He could have figured that out though, about her.  She was always so closed off to others, to make sure her heart and her mind was safe from men.  It wouldn’t help her if she fell for anyone else in this life.

“Your publishing house is an innovator.  That’s all because of you. Not that figurehead you have at the top of the letterhead.  Well, mostly you.”

“I’ve published many of your works, haven’t I?”

That’s how he knew more about her than she did about him.  He must be using some kind of pseudonym when he published his works.  She’d never seen the name Ford cross her desk.

He smiled back at her. In any other time, his smirk would make her cross. 

“More than I’d like to admit,” he replied, glancing over at the paper sitting on his desk.

Her cheeks colored again, knowing what he was attempting to write.  Leaning over, she came closer to him. It was fun to play with him. She hadn’t flirted with anyone since she was young and carefree.  He turned a pretty shade of pink, eyes focusing on her bosom.  He moved his leg as a distraction, but she knew she’d gotten to him.  Once she got out of this mess, she’d never see him again. That didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun while she was trapped.

“Would you mind if I read what you’ve been writing?”

“No, no, no.  I don’t think…”

“You don’t think that I read everything that comes across my desk?  You do indeed do not know me.”

“It’s just.”

“Just what?”

Getting up off the chair, his eyes were only on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him working his leg to get it to move. 

“Not a good idea.”

“Humor me.”

Picking up the papers off his desk, she chose a random page that he’d written in the past few days.  She’d thought that he was writing some kind of romance. One of her editors had said it was the next big thing, that there was a market for it, but she hadn’t read anything he had his writers submit.  Was that to protect her?  She’d have to have a long talk with him once she got out of this mess.

As her eyes scanned each line, she could see why he was such a good writer.  His words came alive on the page, wanting her to read more.  Only when she flipped to the next page, she knew why he was embarrassed for her to read.  It was vivid in its description of what his hands were doing to her.

“Would you like me to read it to you?”

How on earth had he gotten up off the ground? He was standing directly behind her now, voice low and deep. 

“I don’t think that would be necessary.”

His mouth was mere inches from her neck.

“You might want to know what you’re buying.”

She swallowed hard. Turning her head slightly, she looked up into his eyes. They’d turned a stormy, dark blue now.  His grin had disappeared to be replaced by a grimace, like he was holding back but wanted to desperately say something else.  Did he want to kiss her? It had been so long since anyone had wanted to touch her, much less kiss her.

“Sophie.”

With that one word, Sophie shivered.  He was so close to her, but not touching in the least.  She could feel the heat that radiated off his body.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“What? The book?”

“No. I mean yes. That’s not what I meant.”

If he didn’t stop looking at her lips, she was going to spontaneously combust.

“I might need to do more research on the subject.”

Her knees felt weak.

“Research?”

“Yes. Lots and lots of research.”

“Is there a market for this type of fiction?” she asked him honestly.

“You’re the expert.”

“I wish.”

She couldn’t help but breathe heavily now.  Sophie was caught up in his spell and couldn’t escape.  It seemed to take an eternity for him to lower his mouth to hers, even though he wasn’t that far away.  The first touch was gentle, almost too gentle. She increased the pressure, wanting to make sure he knew this was what she wanted.

She hadn’t meant to moan, but when she did, he took it as an invitation for his tongue to explore.  She’d never had a man do that to her.  William barely even kissed her, much less made her moan.  The only other time she’d done this, the man had not kissed her at all.  Sure, he’d made her body float in the end, but there had been no kissing.  Who knew that just a kiss could feel this way?

Coming up for breath, his mouth traveled down her neck. He closed the distance of a few inches between them by wrapping his arms around her stomach, pulling her close enough so that she felt his whole body against hers.  He dove in for another kiss as her hands came up to rake through his hair.  She was so focused on his mouth and lips, when his hand came up to stroke her breast through her clothes, her body arched back into his.

Neither of them heard the door to the room open. They were too caught up in what was going on with their bodies, their hands, their mouths to realize that someone had opened it.

“Sophie,” she heard off in the distance, but didn’t care because she wanted the sensations to continue.

It wasn’t until Nate pulled away from her lips that she knew something was wrong. Opening her eyes, she spotted several people standing in the doorway, including her sister.

“Crap,” she heard him mutter into her ear.

He hadn’t moved away from her, if just to hide his excitement of what they’d been doing.

Crap indeed.


	4. Now The Door Was Unlocked

Chapter Four—Now The Door Is Unlocked

He was lost in her lips and touching her. The door opening must have been a dream as he contemplated how to get her clothes off and her into his bed.

Someone had said her name, a female someone, bringing him out of the haze that he was in.  His hand stopped squeezing the roundness of her breast, although he didn’t move away from her.  Pulling her tight, he glanced over, now realizing that the door was indeed open. Standing there, looking in at the scene before them were his brother Eliot, his solicitor and a young, blonde woman.  In the background was a maid or two, along with what looked to be Sophie’s footman.  He was banged up, but alive.

“Crap,” he muttered into her ear, not knowing what else to say.

“Um, oops,” Eliot said as he slowly closed the door back, pushing everyone out of his way.

“They, we, oh my god.”

Not much else to say other than they both were screwed now that so many people saw them in a compromising position.  His hands all over her body would be the talk of the town. It would make it back to London quicker than anyone could anticipate. He was doomed, even though he sort of figured he’d been doomed once Sophie had been placed in his room the night before.

Laying his forehead against her shoulder, he just breathed her in.  Things could be worse, he thought.  He hadn’t moved his hand away from her stomach nor had she removed her hands from the back of his head.  Slowly she let them down to her sides.

“What just happened?”

“I think they were here to let us out.”

Sophie started to laugh, but it wasn’t a laugh of merriment. 

“This is all a joke, isn’t it? It has to be.”

“No joke.”

“Let me go.”

He certainly did not want to let her go, but knew he needed to not be touching her to think. Slowly he let his arms fall away from her, from her heat. Knowing that he may never get to touch her again, his lips fell to her neck for a quick peck, making her shiver.

“Maybe,” she started, swallowing.  “Maybe not doing that again would be a start.”

Leaning back against the bed, he tried to bring his body’s reaction under control while she moved away from him.  Looking back over her shoulder, he could tell that she was affected just as much as he was.  It took a few minutes for his mind and his body to calm.  Sophie stood in front of him, arms crossed over her, to stop the shaking that had started once he released her.

“Door’s unlocked now.”

Sophie put her hand over her mouth to not speak. He could see the tears start to form in her eyes.

“Sophie, we’ll figure this out.  We’ll, we, this isn’t. Do you hate me?”

He was stumbling through what he wanted to say, but he didn’t have the words at the moment.  She just shook her head no. He had no idea whether she meant no to hating him or whether she knew there would be no way out of this mess now.  Marching over to the door, he wrenched it open to find Eliot, the blonde woman and his solicitor still standing there, waiting for them to come out.

“What?” he yelled.

“Nate,” Eliot said, body tense.

“Eliot Spencer, so help me, I am going to kill you once this is over.”

Eliot’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

“Is she alright?” the blonde woman inquired. “Sophie?”

Instead of waiting for him to respond, the woman made her way into his room to check on her.

“It seems that we were possibly too late,” his solicitor started to reply.

“Too late?” Nate growled back.

“We, um, we figured out what happened. The door.  Just, yeah.”

“Just yeah?  You locked me in a room with Sophie and all you can say is yeah?”

“Nate, hear me out. I know. This is not what it seems.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Good idea?”

“Well, not a good idea. The only idea I had, ok?”

“Sir, Ms. Devereaux is well, I assume?”

Looking back, he saw the blonde woman consoling Sophie, hugging her tight. Sister. That must be her sister.

“A few bruises. A blow to the back of her head. No memory of what happened.”

“Damn,” Eliot cursed.

“You locked the door.”

“I did.”

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

He could see out of the corner of his eye Sophie rolling her eyes at his language. 

“I thought I had a plan.  Obviously I didn’t.”

“Did you do it?”

“Do what? I found out who drugged her.  So yeah.  I did my job.  Apparently you decided to take it a step further.”

Nate was never so glad to punch his brother right at that point.  Eliot was blaming him for everything that had transpired?

“Nate, wait,” he could hear Sophie say.

“Eliot, do you realize what you’ve done?”

Nate could see blood at the side of Eliot’s lips. He didn’t regret causing that.  Sophie’s hands on his arm stopped him from taking another swing at his younger brother.

“Yes. No.  We’d fixed it.  She was free to go back. No one knew I’d locked her in there with you.”

“Now they do,” came from the blonde woman.

“It was a contingency plan.”

“Contingency my ass.  You were never going to get away with it.”

Sophie’s gasp brought him back around, making him turn to look at her. She withdrew her hands, tears now falling softly on her face. He never wanted to hurt her.

“Sir, we can possibly make this go away.”

Nate really wanted to hit his lawyer too, but didn’t because Sophie had turned white as a sheet. It was only when she started to sway that he put his arms out to catch her, to make sure she didn’t injure herself any more than she had.  Pulling her against him, he picked her up in his arms to make sure she was safe.

“Put me down, you oaf,” she said against his chest.

“She gets that way when she doesn’t eat,” Sophie’s sister added.

“You didn’t feed her?” Eliot inquired.

“Fuck it,” he said as he carried her back into his room and placed her on his bed.

Carrying the tray over, he put it close to her so that she could eat.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

It took her a few minutes to start eating, but she did, finishing off the breakfast that had been made for the two of them.  He’d eat later.  If he did eat, it possibly would just come right back up.  Glaring at Eliot, he yanked the man’s arm into the hallway.

“Down to my office. Now,” he commanded.

Both Eliot and his solicitor followed on command. Pushing the door open, Nate slammed it shut once the two men were inside.

“Talk,” he yelled to Eliot.

“It’s just. I, we.”

Eliot truly was not handling this all that well.  He thought that his brother was much more intelligent than this.  He perhaps was not, at least when it came to dealing with delicate matters.

“We what? You decided, on your own, that you’d save her reputation?”

“Well, I had help,” Eliot said glancing at his solicitor.

“Sterling?”

“The lady was in distress.  We had to make sure her reputation wasn’t tarnished.”

“Well, it is now.”

Eliot smiled a little at that.

“Tell me exactly what happened, Eliot.”

“I was traveling back to the estate with a couple others.  We noticed a man being beaten by the stables at the inn.  We intervened.  There was smoke coming from the upstairs.  Someone had started a fire.  I raced up there, found Sophie in a compromising position.  I could tell she was out cold.  I got her out of there as fast as I could.  There were witnesses.  I raced here with her.  I had to make a split second decision.  I knew you were three sheets to the wind.”

Nate groaned now, realizing that he was so drunk he didn’t even know that Sophie was in the room with him until he had sobered up and started writing.  The door by then was already locked.

“Do you think that maybe you should have let her decide any of this?”

“He didn’t see any other choice at the time,” Sterling reiterated.

“Nate, what would you have done?  He had her pinned to the floor, skirt up around her waist. Christ, you’ve seen what happens.”

Nate closed his eyes, willing away what had happened to their mother so long ago.  Eliot was so little, he certainly did not remember how his mother had jumped off the roof after she’d been violated.  His father had treated her like she was at fault for what had happened.  Nate knew better, but didn’t know how to express it at the time.

“I thought you could protect her.”

Eliot thought Nate could protect Sophie?  He was no knight in shining armor.  He was a drunken bastard who had to write to be able to eat.  What the hell was Eliot thinking?

“Sir, I think it would be in your best interest to marry her.”

Nate turned on Sterling, wanting to lash out at him too.

“What if she doesn’t want to marry me?  Or any other man?”

“By what was going on in there when we opened the door,” Sterling said.

Nate lunged at Sterling, but Eliot caught him before he was able to pummel the man.

“For god’s sake, man. Just do it, you miserable son of a bitch.”

Sterling was always up front with Nate, had always told him like it was.  That’s what he liked about the man.  He never held anything back.

“Besides, it would kind of make it easier.”

“Easier? You think I want to make things easier for you,” Nate said to Eliot.

“Well, yeah.  Since I asked Parker to marry me.”

The sister.  That’s what her name was.

“Why? Why did you ask her to marry you?”

Eliot’s eyes went wide.  “Not because of that, if that’s what you’re asking.  I love her.”

It was as simple as that. Eliot was so straight forward, never played any games. Nate could see by the look in Eliot’s eyes that he was not playing any tricks on Nate, nor was he lying.

“Oh,” was all Nate could say to that. “I don’t even know Sophie.”

“Sort of looked like you were trying.”

“One more word, Eliot. I swear.”

“Come on, old man. Not getting any younger.  God, if it makes you not be such a bastard, I’d say marry her.”

He’d love to fire Sterling, but knew he couldn’t.  Sterling was too smart for his own good, which made him an excellent lawyer.

“I need a drink.”


	5. Sophie Will Not Submit To Anyone

Chapter Five—Sophie Will Not Submit to Anyone

Sophie’s hands shook as she finished off her meal. Parker was right.  Any time she needed nourishment, if she didn’t get it, she’d shake.

“So?” Parker started.

“Don’t start.”

“Oh, not starting at all.  He looks like he’s really good with his hands.”

“Parker,” Sophie chided the younger woman.

Parker always said what was on her mind, which made it so difficult for her to find a mate.  She’d told Sophie though that there was someone interested.  Parker was good at keeping secrets and had never told her who was courting her.  If that ever came out, it could cause a scandal too.  Sophie’s life was just full of scandals.

“Are you really ok?”

“Yes, I really am.  Now I must go and kill Nate’s younger brother.”

“Umm, you might want to hold off on that.”

“Parker, he put me in a locked room with his brother to cause a scandal so I would have to submit.”

“Who said anything about submitting?  By the way, nice dress.”

Sophie looked down, hoping that nothing had slipped while everything had been up in the air. 

“I’ll find a shawl,” Parker huffed as she stood up.  “We still should talk, you know. About stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah, stuff.”

Sophie took Parker’s hand in hers, wanting her to know that everything she’d done was for her, so that she would have a life and not be subjected to a horrible man like William.

“Let’s go.  We need to speak with Eliot.”

“Eliot?  You mean Nate’s younger brother?”  The look in Parker’s eyes said it all.  “What have you done, Parker?”

As Sophie stood up, a shadow crossed the door to the bedroom.

“Oh, I would say not enough, Parker.  Now let’s finish this.”

The scream that Sophie let out filled the hallway until the man with the gun hit her across the temple.  Her world went black.


	6. The One Where We Find Out Who The Bad Guy Is

Chapter Six—The One Where We Find Out Who the Bad Guy Is

Nate knew the drink would not fix anything, but it would calm his nerves.  Or that’s what he was telling himself.  It would get him through the day.

“I have already obtained the marriage license,” Sterling started.

The scream that rang out startled all of them, making Nate drop the glass he held in his hands.

“Sophie,” he yelled as he pushed the doors to the study open.

The gunshot rang out upstairs where the two sisters had stayed.  Eliot ran around the other side of the hall while Nate made it up the stairs in record time.  If Nate didn’t encounter who fired the gun, then Eliot would most certainly head him off. Parker sat in the middle of the upstairs hallway, shaking.  It was when he saw blood dripping from her hands, he stopped.

“He took her. That way,” she panted.

“Sterling,” Nate shouted as he saw the man at the top of the stairs.  “Take care of her.”

Nate had counted on Eliot coming up the back stairs.  He thought his brother had headed off the intruder, but that definitely was not the way they’d gone.

“Parker,” Eliot yelled, seeing the woman on the ground.

“Sterling’s got her.  She’s alright.”

Eliot fell to his knees in front of her, grabbing her face in his hands.

“Don’t die,” he chanted as he tried to figure out where she’d been shot.

“I’m ok.  It’s just a graze. Besides, Mr. Sterling’s here.  Find Sophie.”

Nate didn’t wait on Eliot or Parker.  He bounded up the stairs to the roof.  It was the only way they would have been able to go without someone seeing them.  He heard a struggle as he approached the door to the roof. The wind whipped through the door as he opened it, taking in the scene before him.  The intruder, with his back turned, had Sophie by the hair.

“Tell me how to get out of here.”

“No, Damien. Please, let me go.”

“You ruined it.  The company, everything, was supposed to be mine, you cow.  Not some piss ant guy with a title. You were supposed to die, do you understand?”

Nate knew who Damien was just by his name.  He was the face of the company while Sophie called the shots.  Whatever their arrangement had been, Damien obviously hadn’t liked it.  He must have planned the attack on Sophie at the inn. What had changed? Seven years of working. Why had he planned to take Sophie out of the picture? 

“Why, Damien?  You had everything.  I thought you were my friend.”

“Your sister marrying?  How do you think that would have gone over?  Spencer would have pushed me out, taken what was his.  She owns half the company or have you not remembered?”

Wait, Parker?  Eliot?   Eliot would control her half?  Of course, once Eliot married Parker, then it would be his too.

“It should have been all mine. I made that company what it was.  You should have been mine. Do you understand?”

Sophie wrenched her arm away from Damien and stood straight next to him.

“You’re married. You have children.”

“Which I would have gotten rid of if you just looked at me.”

Nate shook his head at this. The man would do away with his whole family for money? No wonder Sophie didn’t like men.

“Put the gun down.”

“Oh no. You will not tell me what to do woman. For the last time.”

Damien raised the gun and pointed it directly at Sophie’s heart.

“Wow, nice plan.”

Nate came out of his hiding place, making Damien turn in his direction. He acted and looked so calm and collected while Damien looked like he was ready to explode.

“Ford. Or is it Spencer?  Who knows you’ve changed your name so many times.  Nathan Spencer, Fifth Earl of Kendal. Right. Didn’t tell Sophie what your title was?  Didn’t tell Sophie that you had your first wife killed for her infidelity?”

Sophie’s eyes widened at that, but she kept her distance.

“You also didn’t tell dear Sophie that your poor child died under mysterious circumstances. What was it?  Pneumonia?  There were always doubts. Why you were in America for most of your life?  You want to tell Sophie your life story or shall I?”

“Why don’t you put that gun down and we can talk.”

“Talk?  Talk? Go ahead and tell her Nathan. How you were betrothed to another, but took Margaret to bed, getting her pregnant.  Now I can see by the look on your face you know, Sophie.”

“We were not betrothed. I never met him before today.”

“But your parents were so set on the two of you marrying.  And he had to go and mess it up. Margaret was mine. And you took her away.”

“Fuck,” Nate voiced. “That’s not what happened.”

“Nate,” he could hear Sophie say behind Damien.

“Moreau, telling her lies is not going to solve what you did. Do you understand?”

“Lies?  Go on, tell her.”

“I loved Maggie.”

“Really? You loved her.  So much you had her murdered.”

“It was a carriage accident. I wasn’t even in the country at the time.”

“Oh, you knew she was coming to me, to finally profess her love to me.  You had her killed.  Ask Sterling.”

Ask Sterling?  Sure, he’d been nearby and contacted Nate as soon as it had happened.  Nate hurried back from Paris where he’d gone to retrieve some documents that his father had wanted.

“See how many women you’ve betrayed.  Sophie, then Margaret.  Don’t you see, Sophie? He’s trying to pull you into his web.”

Nate hadn’t seen anyone else enter from inside the house, but as Damien’s eyes widened, he knew someone must be behind him.  Before he turned, Damien went down, gunshot to the head.  Whoever was behind him was a crack shot. He’d be forever in their debt.  Only when he turned around, he found Sterling with the smoking gun in his hands.

“Jim, thank you. He was going to kill Sophie.”

“Oh, I know he was.  I told him to.”

“Sterling. Jim. Why?”

“Clearing up loose ends. Once Eliot had control of the company, then I could step in.  You and Sophie were expendable.  He was supposed to kill Sophie, then come after you.  I planted the idea that you had Maggie killed.”

“I would never do that.”

“Maybe, maybe not.  She was pregnant with his child when she died.  Did you know that?”

It was like a punch to the gut.  He knew she was unfaithful, but had never found out the other party.

“She blamed you for Sam’s death. If you hadn’t gone so far in your head, then maybe he could have been saved.  Your roll in this. You’re not innocent at all.”

Sam.  Maggie. His whole family wiped out by greed. What would he do now that he knew everything?

“Your death was supposed to look like a suicide. Then Eliot had to intervene, the bastard. Too bad Damien never got a piece of Sophie. That would have been entertaining to watch.”

Nate could hear the intake of breath from Sophie behind him.  He’d maneuvered himself directly in front of her, hoping to possibly save her life if it came to that.

“Let her go.”

“Oh, I cannot do that, Nate. She knows too much.  Too bad though.  She might have been useful on my arm.”

Sophie had moved up directly behind him.  He could feel her hand on his shoulder, supporting him in whatever he could do to end this.  It didn’t look like Sterling was going to back down.

“Goodbye, Nate.”

The gun that Sterling had was pointed directly at Nate’s heart. It wasn’t a survivable shot. The blur off to the side of Sterling made him flinch just a bit. The fact that Sophie had somehow retrieved Moreau’s gun and had it pointed directly at Sterling made him cheer when he found out about it later. Where had Sophie learned to shoot a gun? And how had Eliot gotten so fast and quiet where Sterling didn’t hear him approach?

Getting shot again wasn’t as much of a big deal.  The shoulder wound hurt like a son of a bitch, but at least Sophie hadn’t been injured. Eliot’s timing was a little off, but the gun Sterling had pointed at Nate went wide. The gun that Sophie held was fired first, striking Sterling on the leg. The gun that Sterling had went off a few seconds later, striking Nate on the arm.  Only Sterling’s was a more serious wound and took him down, along with Eliot’s tackle.

The searing pain took Nate down to his knees, Sophie attempting to support his body as it fell.

“Nate,” Eliot yelled as he slumped over to the cold rooftop.

That was all he could remember.


	7. Nate Does Not Duck, Again

Chapter Seven—Nate Does Not Duck, Again

Her hand on his chest was a reminder that he still breathed.  She hadn’t let him out of her sight since the shooting, even when the surgeon had to repair the damage to his shoulder.  Eliot had told her that his brother was made of stern stuff, but she had to make sure he’d survive.  She needed to speak with him. None of what Damien had told her seemed true, but most of it probably was. She certainly did not think that Nate had anything to do with his wife’s now classified murder. Sterling had admitted to that. The fact though that Sophie had been betrothed to Nate without her knowledge was troubling.  No one had ever told her, even her parents. The minor title that she held was never mentioned either. Once her parents had died, who was to know except the solicitor?  Nate had known though. By his intake of breath at the announcement, he had known and had ignored it completely to marry Maggie.

Sophie wanted to piece together the whole story, make sure she was hearing each side correctly. Nate was in America when he married Maggie.  How did Maggie know Moreau?  How did Sterling come into play? The only thing she did know was the fact that Eliot had saved her and wanted to marry her sister.

“Fuck that hurts.”

His swearing would have to stop, Sophie surmised.

“I don’t think you know how to duck.”

Opening his eyes, he turned his head to look at her lying directly beside him.

“They lock us in a room together again?”

“No, it’s unlocked.  Unless you want me to lock it from this side?”

He smirked back at her.  “I can’t move.  Maybe later.”

As he shifted, he groaned in pain.

“No moving. Doctor’s orders.”

“Three times.”

“Three times?”

“I’ve been shot three times.”

“How many lives have you led?”

“Too many.  By the way, what is your title?”

So he’d remembered Sterling and Moreau’s speeches.

“Baroness of something or another.”

“Devereaux’s your married name?”

“Yep,” she answered.

“You know, I didn’t turn you down.”

“No, you thought you married for love.”

“We would have killed each other.”

“Figuratively or literally?”

“You choose,” Nate laughed, pulling up when he decided it hurt too much to even do that. “You changed.”

That’s all he could think about at that moment, that she’d changed her clothes.

“You’ve been out for almost two days.  I’ve struggled to actually get any liquids down you.”

“Oh, so that was you.  I thought you were an angel.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Still like the view.”

She’d dressed in a gown that was more modest with almost no cleavage showing.  His eyes still strayed there, probably remembering the too tight gown and the fact that his face had been way too close to her several times.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

“Like we are probably married, or soon to be.”

“Yes, unfortunately Eliot had already gone through all that.  Bastard. The priest should be here tomorrow.”

“Priest? I was joking.  Maybe we could avoid. I mean, if you don’t want to, you know, have me, then we can just sweep it under the rug. No one will know.”

“Everyone knows, darling.”

“Gossip?”

“Pretty much.”

It wouldn’t be so bad, she thought.  He did defend her, was sweet and seemed to be caring.  And she’d have him wrapped around her little finger in no time at all.

“You should rest, Nate.”

“Last night as an unmarried man. Don’t I get a party or something?”

As she leaned over to kiss his forehead, he moved his head so that she missed. Or that was the story she told everyone.  The things he could do with that wicked tongue of his.


	8. Nate and Sophie Get Married

Chapter Eight—Nate and Sophie Get Married

His arm in a sling. That’s how he’d remember his second wedding day.  His first had been himself and Maggie standing before a preacher in a small church in Boston.  Helps to have your own chapel on the grounds of an estate.

“You need to stay upright, darling.”

Blood loss would make one woozy.  Eliot’s arm came up to prop him up to make sure he made it through to the end.  The priest took everything out of the marriage vows other than the things he deemed necessary.  Once everything was done, Parker cheered, then frowned when she saw Sophie glaring at her.

“It’s just, you’re married.  Be happy about it.”

Sophie made a face back at her sister. Wasn’t she happy that she’d married the man she was betrothed to when she was young?  Nate wouldn’t call it fate. He’d call it pure luck that they’d even met each other. Fuck arranged marriages.

When the time came to kiss the bride, Nate hesitated, shrugging Eliot’s helping arm away from him.  She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, he thought as her lips touched his.  Why hadn’t they met sooner? Nate swayed a little at the lack of oxygen as Sophie deepened the kiss. It was only when he almost toppled the both of them over that she stopped, with Eliot catching him before he fell.

They took their light dinner up in Nate’s room, fire built up to ward off the chill of the coming winter.  Sophie had helped to prop him up on the bed, with pillows and a nice, comfortable blanket across his legs and lap.  He listened as she prepared herself for the night. The dressing gown hid her features as she came out of the bathroom. Her hair hung down her back in waves.  The only light was coming from the firelight.

“So?” Nate started. “Cold?”

“A bit.”

“There’s enough room, up here.”

He was so nervous, he hoped she didn’t notice.  She did since she just grinned at him as she slid the dressing gown down her shoulders. She had nothing on underneath. He had known she wasn’t a virgin, had been married for quite some time. Why did he feel like he was the inexperienced one?

As she crawled up the bed and straddled him, he wondered how he’d gotten so lucky.  A few days ago, he was a lonely writer trying to make it through to the next day.  Now he had one of the most beautiful, intelligent women in the world naked, in his bed.

“I can’t, I can’t move my arm, or much else.”

“Just lay back and enjoy.  I got some pointers.”

“Pointers?”

“Don’t leave your manuscript lying around.”

“Oh. That.  I might need to do more research.”

Sophie giggled as her mouth traveled over his chest and down to his lap.


End file.
